


An Open Door

by wednesday



Category: X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-22 14:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11382246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/pseuds/wednesday
Summary: Someone trips the one way locks and it isn't Logan.





	An Open Door

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Babie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babie/gifts).



Logan comes to inside some kind of lab or something - everything's made of shiny metal and glass. It takes a few moments to remember he's here, under the lake to find something about his own past. A moment later he realizes it was the sound of closing doors that snapped him out of staring at reinforced metal restraints welded to a table. Less than a second to decide he's fighting whoever's down here with him. He can't rely on any type of hiding with how much he's been losing time the last few days. It’s never gotten him in danger before, but it hasn’t ever happened so damn often before. Not that his first instinct is ever to run or hide.

Claws extended he moves towards the exit, the same path he took to get here, though he remembers it vaguely, through a strange fog. To hell with Chuck's " _you'll have to wait it out, Logan, it will pass with time_ ," he can't function like this, sleepwalking half the time.

He's not even through the door when he hears the cursing.

"Summers?" he says incredulously and hopes his tone conveys the _what the fuck_ of the situation. "What the hell are you doing here?" _alive_ his mind supplies in a slow whisper and. What. Why wouldn't Summers be alive? Logan moves his hand, claws and all, in a wave to the side to put an emphasis on the here part. Suppresses a cold shiver of unease.

"Shut up and help me with the door," Summers says without even turning to make sure it's really Logan. _Wasted that handwave for nothing_. He's trying to do something with the locking mechanism, open it, one would expect.

"Won't work. You tripped the sensors on your way in. It's not going to open." Logan says and wonders why he's so sure of that. How he’s able to say it so calm, when it makes the hair at the back of his neck rise. "What _are_ you doing here?"

Summers stops struggling with the lock and turns around, his glasses yet again taking half the fun out of eye contact. Still, he looks a bit agitated there, thinking about his answer. He opens his mouth to say something and freezes for a moment, head tilting towards the heavy door. They can both hear distant echoes of metal against metal somewhere in the direction of the exit. Well, fuck.

Summers shakes his head faintly and gets on with it. "You called me." _The hell_.

"The hell? _I_ called _you_ here?" Logan asks, and damn, what if he did it while spaced out again? Doesn't sound like something he'd do even then.

"Yes. You called and left a message saying where I could pick up my bike. That you _stole_."

"Well, congratulations, you locked us in here. Aren't you supposed to be trained to notice traps and stuff? Or did your eye get fogged up under that," he gestures at the glasses "thing?" Logan was fucking sleepwalking when he came in and he managed to avoid tripping the locks. Almost like he knew where they were. Yeah.

"I wasn't expecting to find you in an underground lair filled with traps! What is this place?" Summers starts looking around with intent, like he expects another exit's gonna materialize anywhere here. Clearly he hasn’t realized where he is yet.

"A military base. Under a lake. That we're now stuck in." Logan says through gritted teeth. He seriously wants to punch the guy, and yet somehow he's-- happy to see him? Damn usual for dealing with Summers.

"There has to be some way to open the doors," Summers says, already distracted by the nearest console, his hands hovering over it like he can read the labels with his mind. Who the hell knows, maybe that's his other superpower.

"Yeah," Logan says, "good luck with that." Summers is ignoring him and Logan walks back deeper into the lab to make sure there really aren't any other exits. The aggressive optimism must be catching.

There are no other exits. They're locked in an area with the entrance room, hallway, main lab and five smaller rooms. None of them has anything like an exit or a door leading elsewhere, the closest are some weird ventilation shafts that turn into dead ends with some kind of water filters on top. Strange but useless, seeing as they aren't connected to the rest of the base.. Summers is still trying to meld with the computers in the entrance room and Logan can hear faint cursing again. That's a no on the doors opening.

Logan walks trough all the inner rooms slowly and stops at the only one that doesn't make him flinch or feel like breaking out in cold sweat. He's definitely been here before and seems he didn't like it the first time either. He still has no memory of it, though, but he looked at the lab long enough to make a damned good guess about what that particular missing memory might be.

He sits down, gets comfortable and waits for Summers to give up and come up with some other plan. The cursing stops after a few minutes, but then there's a lingering bright red flash from the open door followed by a loud crash and more cursing.

Summers finds him some time later, possibly because he's too embarrassed to show his face right after _that_.

"It's won't open; I think it has some kind of one way lock. It can only be opened by someone from the outside," Summers says nonchalant, like he didn’t just get the laser eyes ricocheted back at his face. He looks a bit down, but not nearly enough for their situation. "It can't be cut open with laser either – reflects it," he explains with visible reluctance. "We could try the walls, maybe-"

"They're at least three feet of concrete and have a full lake of water on the other side. Probably some other precautions." Logan waits for him to get a clue, but no such luck. Not like they can do anything about it anyway, so Logan doesn't say anything.

Summers throws up his hands. He gets upset too easily sometimes, and Logan can’t figure out what’s common to the times he does - he might not agree with Professor X on a lot of things, but he wouldn’t make the guy a leader of his secret mutant police, if he got upset often. For the first time Logan wonders how old he is. The damn glasses make it hard to tell.

"I don't see you coming up with a better idea."

"I'm not the one who locked us in here," he says calmly, though he isn't feeling all that calm about it. Mostly he just wants to rile Summers up even more.

" _You_ \- I am only here because you stole my bike!" Summers shouts. Maybe Logan’s just good at pushing his buttons.

"Didn't have to come in here. I left the bike a good mile from the base." He does wonder about that – he may not remember calling, but he knows he wasn't that easy to find and Summers got here not long after Logan himself did. The same day at least; he didn’t lose more time than that.

" _I was worried_!" Huh.

He's got no idea what to say to that, though he desperately wants to say _something_ , and Summers looks like he's shocked himself more than Logan. Logan’s not that kind of a dick, so they stare at each other in silence for a while, right until Summers visibly shivers and crosses his arms in a way clearly meant to keep himself warm. Logan's been feeling cold, but it's not like the cold can do any permanent damage on him. It can damage Summers, though, and they've been here for at least a couple of hours now, slowly cooling down. Like there wasn't enough to worry about. For a moment there he almost opens his mouth to offer Summers his jacket.

Summers sits down by the opposite wall, anger replaced by a half smile. His face is tilted upwards.

"So, could you break the door with your claws?"

"Who do you think this lab was for?" he asks. It only takes a couple of moments for Summers to get what he's saying and visibly flinch. "Even if I could, it would take a long time, and this isn't the only closed door between here and the exit."

"Damn. Okay, so we'll have to wait for someone to come looking for us."

"Yeah, how long do you think that'll take?" _Too long._

"I was supposed to accompany Professor Xavier somewhere tomorrow, so not that long until someone notices I'm missing, a day or two." Logan's got no idea why, but he feels relieved when Summers says he'll be missing that appointment. He keeps thinking random shit he can't explain and it can't have anything to do with his memory coming back. Not like he'd have any memories of Summers.

They sit in silence for a bit. Feels like the kind of silence no one wants to break. "Logan?"

"Hmm?"

"We don't have a day or two, do we?"

Took him long enough. Not that Logan's happy to share this knowledge with Summers. It felt a bit better when at least one of them thought they'd get back home easy. He keeps getting a weird urge to protect Summers from _something_. He keeps ignoring it, too. A lot of things he firmly doesn’t think about lately.

"No, we don't."

"How soon will they get here?"

"How the hell should I know? The place doesn't look all that abandoned to me, what with all the stuff still here and in working order, so not long."

Summers sighs, rubs some warmth into his shoulders and gets back up to investigate what looks like a weapons locker in the far corner of the room.

He doesn’t say anything else and neither does Logan.

The locks on the furniture aren’t reinforced, at least outside the lab they aren’t, because Summers starts melting the gun locker open carefully a minute later. Logan watches his profile in the bright red light and thinks of nothing at all. Summers and his red laser eyes are a more cheerful sight than the steely cold walls. There’s some distant sense of danger attached to the image, but he doesn’t care to examine it.

The locker doors open and Logan is left blinking spots out of his vision. The place has even less color for a while until the red washes out of his memory.

Summers comes back with four identical handguns, boxes of ammo and a cleaning kit. He sits down cross legged on the floor less than four feet from Logan and arranges his spoils in front of himself. Logan expects some smart remark, but it doesn’t come, so he stays silent as well and watches Summers disassemble a gun and start cleaning it. Despite the slight shivering his hands are steady and sure and very familiar with a weapon. Logan wonders if he’s used a gun often. It doesn’t seem likely, but maybe he’s just good with all things deadly.

Summers gets through cleaning and loading two of the guns before he breaks the silence.

“Sorry,” Summers says in a clear voice, without any further explanation.

Not what Logan expected to hear. He doesn’t take his eyes off Summers’ hands, no one here to call him out on it anyway. It’s calming.

“What the hell for?” he asks. He can’t think of anything Summers should apologize for other than generally being a dick. He’s got serious doubts he’s ever getting _that_ apology.

“For getting you locked in here.”

“You think out of the two of us _you’re_ the on needing to apologize for that?” Logan asks, incredulous not because he feels very guilty, but because he didn’t figure Summers would either.

“Not particularly, no,” Summers says offhand, without looking up from the gun he’s assembling. “I’m the only one doing it, though.”

“You sure are,” Logan says, because he’s not apologizing and he’s not accepting an apology either.

Summers finally looks up and he’s smirking like Logan’s being funny on purpose. “Don’t break anything trying,” he says brightly and Logan can _hear_ the laughter in his voice. He’s about to reach out and push Summers over or hit him over the head or _something else_ \--

A distant clanking makes him freeze up. He listens intently and notices Summers quickly putting the last gun together, tense like he wasn’t before. Logan gets up slowly. He motions for Summers to finish up, probably more impatient than there’s any need to be, because the sounds are distant – no one’s breaking their door open yet. Summers rises his hands in surrender, still smiling faintly. He’s apparently done, and offers up a gun to Logan. He looks down and instead of taking it grips Summers’ wrist and drags him up to his feet, gun still in his hand between them. Neither of them takes a step back so they end up in each other’s space. Another banging sound is excuse enough for Logan to look away, let go of Summers’ hand and step back. Not the time to have a moment.

 

* * *

 

They’re standing by the door to the entrance room, listening to distant sounds of metal doors opening and closing, waiting to be found. Summers has his guns, Logan doesn’t because he’d just use it as a bludgeoning tool anyway.

“No one from the school would be looking from us so soon,” Summers says quietly.

“Mhm.” Logan makes the minimum effort to acknowledge it for the question it almost was, maybe because Summers looks less determined than usual.

They’re silently guessing how long it’ll take until the owners of this place to find where they are. Well, that’s what Logan’s thinking; Summers seems to be making a real effort to suppress shivers. It’s not working so well and he looks like he should lean against a wall before he has to sit down, the stubborn bastard. Logan has no trouble leaning against the wall and crossing his legs at the ankles. The tanks with all the tubes don’t look so comfortable, so this might be his last chance to stretch his legs. Not that Summers will have to worry about that - _he_ isn’t bulletproof, even in his fancy leather uniform. No one mentions surrendering as an option. Logan half wishes they could trade places for this part.

“How’d you get here so fast?”

“We’re having this conversation again? I thought your memory was better than _that_ – you called me,” Summers says. Actually he looks like he’d like an argument to take his mind off the imminent fight.

“Keep up, Summers. _How_ did you get here? Where’s your ride?” The clanking metal sounds are getting louder, moving closer as they unlock and check each section.

“I took the jet,” Summers answers slowly. “That’s what you want to talk about right now?” he asks looking bewildered. Maybe a bit disappointed, which is interesting, but there’s suddenly no time for it and Logan promised himself he wasn’t going to be that kind of dick.

“Where did you leave it?” Logan asks, moving back to the lab before he even hears the answer. It’s a stupid idea, but probably better than what’s coming through those doors very soon.

“North of the hidden door, there’s a clearing not far from the treeline. Why is that important _now_?” Summers asks, trailing after Logan.

“They teach you swimming at that school?” Logan asks and breaks a panel in the wall open with his claws. There’s some kind of ventilation shaft behind it. “Come on, get in.”

“What? There’s a way out? Why didn’t you say so before we were about to be shot at?” Summers asks. He sounds properly heated again, too, but he does climb up the flimsy service ladder after Logan.

“Because there isn’t,” he answers as he reaches the filters at the top of the shaft. There’s a horizontal branch there, probably goes all around the room. Logan climbs in so he’s lying the right way. “Get in here.” Summers looks unconvinced, but it’s not like he has a lot of better options. He slides in feet first next to Logan. Close, but there’s enough room for movement for what he has in mind. Summers looks up at the filtration devices that Logan’s examining with intent.

“ _Are you insane?_ ” Summers whisper-shouts. “What am I saying, of course you’re insane, how could I forget. Everyone in the base will drown. _We’ll_ drown.” He sounds a bit hysterical, like he’s only now turning doubtful of their chances. Logan can see blueish lips have joined the shivering. What the hell. He takes off his jacket as fast as he can in the confined space, doesn’t pay attention to the muttered _what are you doing_ as Summers tries to avoid being elbowed in the face, and wraps the jacket around Summers as best he can. It won’t help for long anyway.

“Uh, thanks. What-”

Logan leans closer and kisses him. He puts a hand behind Summers’ head to keep him in place and proceeds to warm his lips up with his own. Summers stays frozen at first, but pretty fast gets with the program. It’s better than he made effort to not think about. Probably should have done this sooner, not right before trying to kill them both.

Summers keeps kissing back, getting more frantic with how little time they have and it's perfectly messy, and Logan feels the strange fog layering across his mind again. Fuck, _not now_. He can not be distracted now. He-

Sounds of opening doors somewhere below distract them both and snap Logan back to reality. Closer to it anyway, it still feels like moving and thinking through plastic wrap. He can hear people moving down in the lab.

“For luck,” he tells Summers, reaches back into the main shaft and jams his claws into the weakest looking part of the filters. The water pressure does the rest and the whole filter collapses inward in moments almost breaking his arm. Water starts rushing down into the vertical shaft and splashing all over them. An uncomfortable surprise to everyone downstairs, not that he can hear anything other than the flow of water, the shaft flooding faster than it drains into the rooms under it.

He spends the moments until the shaft fills up with freezing water looking at Summers. Even with the glasses and messed up hair it’s clear he looks very shaky. That’s as scared as he probably gets, and it looks wrong on him, like he isn’t supposed to get scared. Nothing Logan can do about it now, so he leans in and puts Summers’ hands around his neck. He gets close enough to whisper and shouts “Time’s up. Hold on!” They both take their last breath and as the water rises above their heads, Logan pulls them both up and through the hole where the filters used to be.

The first few disorienting moment’s he’s sure they’re going to fail, the current dragging them back down too strong, but he keeps kicking and fighting against the numbness all around. For a moment a kaleidoscope of unfamiliar funerals flashes in his mind and then he’s free of the sucking current and from the fog in his head.

They’re deep under the surface and by the time he’s almost reached the surface his lungs are burning and he feels Summers’ hold on him slackening.

Hell no, he grabs Summers with one hand, holds on tight and keeps swimming until they breach the surface of the lake. The first breath is both wonderful and paralyzing cold. Summers is out of it and looks much too pale, but he seems to be breathing faintly, so Logan holds on and swims awkwardly to the Northern shore. No one’s shooting at them and he can’t hear anything louder than his own breathing, but he does hurry as much as he can. It’s pleasantly easy to keep his mind empty in the cold.

Surprisingly they’re not frozen solid by the time he gets them both to the shore. Summers is still unconscious, so Logan lifts him up and runs to the jet. It’s got some kind of stealth technology going on, because Logan almost runs into it. He has to put Summers down and dig through the pockets of his his soaked skin tight costume until he finds the remote for opening the ramp. It’s the exact wrong moment to notice Summers’ muscles under the clothes, so of course he does.

Inside the jet he lays Summers down on a bench and at least rises the ramp back up. He could hear nothing outside in the forest, so the next thing he does is undress Summers as fast as he can and wrap him in the ridiculous foil blanket from a medkit. It’d be funny, but Summers doesn’t even stir.

He takes off most of his own wet clothes more sedately and spends some time trying to figure out the controls of the jet. It’s nothing like anything he can drive.

“Wake up, princess, you have to take us home,” he says and lies down next to Summers, puts his hands around him and tries to produce more body heat with the damn power of his mind.

He watches color come back to Summers’ skin slowly, and wishes he had any idea what to do about a lot of things. First aid’s never been relevant before. The sleepwalking has only gotten worse. He's almost sure the Professor somehow knows why and isn't saying. His memory’s still about as gone as it was yesterday. It doesn’t seem all that important at the moment, but he knows it will resume haunting him very soon.

Summers takes another ten minutes to warm up to an acceptable temperature and wake up, and he immediately starts coughing up some water.

“I’m not going to be the little spoon,” is the first thing he says.

Logan laughs; Summers at least is going to be _fine_.

 

 


End file.
